Читать книгу Suddenly Last Summer - Sarah Morgan - Страница 12

HIS PLAN HAD been to give her a report on his grandfather and leave. What hadn’t been part of his plan was lingering and eating a meal, but when he’d arrived she’d looked so shocked to see him he’d thought she was going to pass out at his feet.

There was no way he was leaving her on her own until he was sure she was all right.

“I’m ready, but I warn you it isn’t finished so you’ll need to be careful where you tread.” Switching on the flashlight, she took the steps to the lake path that wound through trees to the almost finished café. “We’re finishing off the interior over the next few days but opening will be delayed because of the deck.”

He wondered why she was so agitated about it. “What difference does a few days make? It’s a café, not a matter of life or death.”

She turned, almost dazzling him with the beam of light. “It could mean life or death for Snow Crystal. Don’t you care?” In the seconds before he was temporarily blinded, he saw the blaze of anger in her eyes.

It didn’t surprise him.

Élise was emotional and passionate about everything. He’d witnessed the intensity of that passion once before, on that night when both of them had ceased to pretend their mutual attraction didn’t exist.

“This place has been in my family for four generations. Of course I care.” His emotions were much more complex than that simple statement suggested, but he had no intention of sharing that.

The light wobbled. “But what we do here is not really important?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“You are saying it has to be a person’s life before it matters? Well let me tell you something, Sean O’Neil.” She advanced on him, her green eyes the only color in her pale face. “This place is like a person to me. And the people who live and work here matter more than anything. And if Snow Crystal doesn’t survive, then that will make a huge difference to people’s lives. You might not want to be involved with what is going on here, but don’t ever dismiss it as irrelevant.”

She was wild. Furious. Uncontrolled. She’d also switched to French without realizing it.

He knew her exaggerated response was fallout from the intense emotion of the day. He saw the same thing happen all the time in his working life.

It made perfect sense.

What made less sense was the fact that he wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to slide his fingers into her hair, cover her mouth with his and kiss her until the fire in her eyes turned from anger to passion. He wanted to taste that passion again, feel it slide over his tongue and into his veins.

Disturbed by how badly he wanted to grab her, knowing that the last thing he needed in his life was a romantic entanglement, he stepped back. “I never said it was irrelevant. You’re worried about opening late. I was trying to put it in perspective.”

“Your perspective and mine are different.” She turned and walked away, the beam from the flashlight bouncing angrily across the path.

While he was waiting for his vision to adjust, Sean breathed in the scent of the trees and the water and was immediately transported back to his childhood.

He was back in a place that made him feel as if he were being suffocated. And now, to complicate things, he was with a woman who made him think of nothing but sex.

A woman who had walked off with the flashlight. He followed her down the path, making his way, barely able to see where he was going, cursing fluently as his feet crunched on twigs and sank into something soft and unidentifiable.

“That’s a perfectly good pair of shoes ruined. I should have followed Gramps’s orders and driven straight back to Boston.”

She turned, almost blinding him with the beam of the flashlight. “So why didn’t you?”

“Because I’ve had a long day.” And because the sight of his grandmother’s pale face had been enough to weld his feet to the floor. “And the food is pretty good around here. I’m planning on hanging around for a while.”

“Good. Because whatever Walter says, your family needs you.” She paused, her shoulders stiff. “I apologize for shouting. You made me angry.”

“Yeah, I got that. Still, at least you didn’t smack me over the head with the flashlight. I should probably be grateful for that. Any chance you could shine it at my feet so I can see what I’m stepping in?”

“It’s a forest! How did you ever survive growing up here?”

“I didn’t wear expensive shoes.” He contemplated wiping them on something but decided it would make it worse. “We used to play down here when we were kids. Mom would send us out with a picnic and we played pirates on the lake and built a camp in the forest. We smeared ourselves with mud to camouflage ourselves and then hid when Gramps came looking for us.”

She eyed his suit. “I cannot imagine you filthy and covered in mud.”

“Take a closer look and you’ll see it now.” He cursed again as his foot slid. “These shoes are Italian.” Giving up on his feet, he glanced up though leaves and branches. “Tyler fell out of this one. He never could keep quiet. He was wriggling, fell and broke his arm. That was the first time I saw what bone looked like. He screamed himself hoarse. Jackson was white and rushing around trying to remember the first aid we’d been taught while I stood there thinking, it would be so cool to know how to fix that. The following winter Jackson broke his arm snowboarding and that was when I knew for sure I wanted to be a doctor. I was seven years old.” He grinned at her. “Of course, I also thought it would be a great way to pull women.”

She glared at him. “You don’t charm me. I’m still angry with you.”

“There’s no justice in the world.”

“You think women are impressed by the fact you’re a doctor?”

Plenty were, but he decided this wasn’t a good moment to mention that. “Obviously you’re not.”

“Maybe you should have chosen something impressive like brain surgery.”

“I could retrain. You think that would make a difference to my hit rate?”

Her scathing look told him she knew exactly how good his hit rate was. “If you’re trying to pull women you should change the way you tell the story—less mention of bone and more heroics might help.”

“You want heroics?”

“Every woman wants heroics.”

“Really? I had no idea. It’s a wonder I’ve scored at all in the past. So give me some help here—what do I have to do to impress you? Fight a moose? Wrestle a bear?”

“Wouldn’t that ruin your suit?” She was softening, her anger a faint glow instead of an intense burn.

“I could ask the bear to wait while I hang my jacket on a tree.” The scent of her hair made him dizzy. He was sure if a bear walked up now, he wouldn’t notice it.

“You pretend to worry about your suit, but you are quite at home in the forest.”

Sean’s foot sank into mud again and he turned the air blue. “Trust me, I really am worried about my suit. It’s done nothing to deserve this treatment.”

“So it has to be intellectual heroism. Nothing physical.”

“I have no problems with physical.” He moved closer to her and saw her back away fractionally. “I just might remove my clothes first.”

She backed away until she was pressed up against the tree. “Don’t flirt with me.”

“Why not? It’s the perfect way to take our minds off a bad day.” He planted his hand against the tree and smiled down at her, forcing himself not to kiss that mouth. Not yet.

She’d probably been on her feet for hours and yet she looked cool and elegant, a scarf knotted with artful simplicity around her throat. Her style was effortless and subtle, her hair glossy dark and cut in a sleek, geometric bob that brushed her jaw. She looked delicate and fragile but he knew she was neither of those things. She was strong, fit and driven by more passion and energy than anyone he’d ever met except perhaps his grandfather. She poured that passion and energy into everything she did, from cooking to—

His body hardened.

She pushed at his chest. “We’re here because you wanted to see the boathouse, remember?”

“I confess I brought you here with nefarious intentions.”

“Nefarious?” She rolled her tongue around the word and he tried to focus his mind sufficiently to provide a translation.

“Maléfique?”

“Wicked. Of course.” She frowned, irritated with herself. “It’s just not a word I have reason to use often at Snow Crystal.”

“Maybe we should do something about that.”

“I don’t think so.” Cool, back in control, she ducked under his arm. “You wanted to see what we’ve done, so come and see. I’m excited about this place. It’s the first time I’ve been involved with something from the start.”

He forced himself to focus on her words and not on the long, lean lines of her body.

“So I’ve told you why I wanted to be a doctor. Now it’s your turn. Did you always want to be a chef?”

It occurred to him that it was the first personal question he’d asked her.

“From the age of four. I was making madeleines with my mother. She was a pâtissière. You call it pastry chef. She stood me on a stool so that I could reach the table and I helped her whisk the mixture. I still remember how it felt to pull the tray from the oven and know I’d made them. The aroma filled our little apartment. And so did my mother’s smile when she tasted them. I decided that was what I wanted to do. Make people smile with my food.” Her own smile faltered for a moment and he saw something in her face before she turned away and walked the last few strides to the boathouse, taking the flashlight with her.

He followed, walking on a carpet of pine needles, twigs crunching under his feet while wondering what the rest of her story was. Because there was more, he was sure of that.

She took the steps onto the half-finished deck. “Be careful not to trip. There are still some planks lying around and the railings aren’t finished. You might end up in the water.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. My shoes are already ruined so I might as well ruin the suit right along with it.” He glanced around him, surprised by the progress. “You’re closer to finished than I thought you’d be.”

“That makes it worse. We so nearly made our deadline.”

“Why this obsession with deadlines? Is my brother a tough boss or something? Do you need me to beat him up for you?”

Her eyes glinted in the semidarkness. “Jackson is the best boss anyone could ever have. Do not ever say a single word against him or you’ll make me angry.”

“Hey, calm down. Jackson is a saint,” Sean drawled. “I’ve always said it.” But he wondered what it was about his brother that induced such loyalty from Élise.

Pondering that, dealing with the surprising flash of jealousy, he strolled across the half-completed deck and stared through the glass into darkness.

It was strange to see it renovated.

This place had been his hideout. Somewhere he could sit with his nose in a book and not be disturbed. Hell, he was pretty sure he’d carved mathematical algorithms into the time frame. He and his brothers had played on the old splintered planks and hidden when their grandfather had come looking for them. There had always been something that needed to be done at Snow Crystal. Trails to be cleared, logs to be chopped, trees to be tapped—the list of jobs was endless and his grandfather had applied himself tirelessly to the upkeep of the family home.

Sean remembered his tenth birthday when his grandfather had told him proudly that Snow Crystal would belong to the three boys one day. It was a legacy, he’d said, something that had to be preserved and protected for future generations.

Sean had kept his head down and sanded the planks of wood, thinking of the science books in his bag and wanting to ask his grandfather if “legacy” meant the same thing as “burden.” He’d heard his father use the word burden a hundred times. Heard him talk about being trapped in a life he hadn’t wanted.

Sean hadn’t wanted it, either.

Instead, he dreamed of being a surgeon. And he dreamed of doing it in a large, busy hospital far away from the lake and forests of Snow Crystal.

You didn’t need to come. You should have stayed in Boston.

With his grandfather’s voice ringing in his ears, Sean paced to the edge of the completed part of the deck. “I’m not used to seeing this place without daylight between the planks. So what is left to do apart from the deck?”

“Just finishing touches.” Élise was looking through the glass into the empty shell. “The internal decoration was finished yesterday. I still have to take delivery of tables and chairs and I have a few final staff interviews to do. All that was supposed to be finished in time for the opening party.”

“And when is that?”

“A week from today. I know Kayla sent you an invitation.”

“I get a lot of emails.”

“You weren’t planning to come.” She sounded baffled, as if she couldn’t understand how a person with his heritage wouldn’t want to spend every spare minute here. And he was used to that. He didn’t expect her to understand.

“I was going to check my schedule.”

The night air was still and quiet, the only sound the occasional call of an owl or a soft splash as a bird skimmed the surface of the lake.

“Whatever he said to you, however he acted, I know your grandfather would have been pleased and relieved to see you there tonight.”

Pleased?

Sean bent to pick up a stone, wondering how he was supposed to answer that. He could ignore the question, or he could just be honest. In the end he chose an answer halfway between the two. “Grams was relieved I was there.”

If Élise noticed the omission she didn’t comment. “Where are you staying tonight?”

Pushing away the past, he turned. “Is that an invitation?”

“No. Will you stay with your mother?”

“She already has Jess staying. It’s simpler for everyone, at least while Gramps is still in the hospital and Tyler is coming and going.” He sent the stone spinning across the water and it bounced, skimmed and vanished into the darkness. “I’ll use Jackson’s spare room.”

“The whole family will feel much better having you here, even if it’s only a night or two.”

“And how will you feel?”

Her gaze skidded to his. “Of course, I am pleased, too. It is a very great stress having someone you love in the hospital and I love Walter.”

“That wasn’t what I was asking you.” He’d often wondered. Wondered whether she thought of it. Thought of him. The fact that the night had held no emotional significance hadn’t stopped it being unforgettable.

“I don’t have a problem with you being here.” Her voice was husky in the darkness. “It isn’t awkward, if that’s what you’re asking me. But it must be a great pressure for you. You need to make sure you think of yourself, too.”

“That’s good advice.” Taking it, he slid his hand behind her head and brought his mouth down on hers in a hard, demanding kiss that stirred up a raw hunger. A kaleidoscope of emotions ripped through him but the prime one was need. It spread through him, not slowly, but like wildfire burning everything in sight. Gripped by it, Sean powered her back against the railing and trapped her there.

Last time, she’d started it.

Now it was his turn.

He felt the softness of her body pressing through the thin fabric of his shirt, the erotic slide of her tongue against his, and desire escalated to a dangerous blaze. Her arms went around his neck and she purred deep in her throat like a thoroughly contented kitten.

His brain blurred.

No other woman had made him feel like this. No other woman had stirred this intense, desperate hunger that wiped all thoughts from his head.

Maybe it was because she didn’t want anything from him but this, and knowing that meant he could relax and give in to it.

Rock-hard, he felt her tug his shirt out of his trousers and slide her hands over his skin, greedy to touch him. And he was equally greedy to touch her. His fingers were on her buttons, loosening them, giving him access to the smooth creamy skin revealed by the lace of her bra.

His body craved hers. It was a visceral, physical need that drove all thought from his brain.

And then she stilled, placed her hands on his chest and drew her mouth away from his.

Sensing the change in her he stopped himself from dragging her back. “What’s wrong?”

“We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s been a tough day. Our judgment is impaired.”

“My judgment is just fine.” He held her hard against his body, leaving her in no doubt that he wanted this as much as she did, but she eased away from him and buttoned her shirt.

“You’re in the middle of a stressful experience.”

“And I was managing my stress levels with physical contact.”

“Sex should not be an emotional decision. You’re tired. You need to get to Jackson’s and get some sleep.”

He wondered if it was worth pointing out there was no way he’d sleep. “Fine, but admit to me that that kiss was the best part of your day.”

“It didn’t have much competition. It was a very bad day.” Her hand lingered on his chest as if she was still making up her mind whether to hold on or pull away. She pulled away. “Good night, Sean.”

“Wait—” he caught her arm “—I’ll walk you back to your lodge.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“I was planning on using you for protection. For my suit, you understand. You’re the one with the flashlight. You go first. That way if something goes squelch, you step in it first.”

“Such a gentleman.” But he heard the smile in her voice.

“You said you wanted a man to perform heroics. I was planning on finding something heroic to do on the walk.” He let go of her arm and adjusted his pace to match hers. “You might want to stick around. You’re about to see a tough, macho man of the forest in action.”

“Does a tough, macho man of the forest always choose to dress in a suit?”

“A bear tore my loincloth when we were wrestling.”

“I can’t imagine you in a loincloth.”

“Mine are custom-made. I have them shipped from Milan.”

They reached Heron Lodge and she took the steps two at a time, lithe and athletic. “Sleep well, Sean.”

“Will you be all right tonight? Are you sure you want to sleep alone?” He had no idea why he’d asked that question. What would he do if she said no? Spending the whole night with a woman wasn’t something he did.

“I sleep alone every night, Sean.” She paused with her hand on the door, a quiet, wistful note to her voice. “And that’s the way it’s staying.”